


A Lesson in Lies

by Detective_Animator



Series: A. K. A. How to Run from Your Problems [1]
Category: Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23, Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: AU-crossover, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jessica Jones is Chloe, Jessica is Chloe (Apartment 23), Jessica pushes people away, Kilgrave is a walking trigger, Lies, Lots of Languge, Night Terrors, One Character is another character, One Shot, PTSD Jessica Jones, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rated for implied rape, Substance Abuse, What Was I Thinking?, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detective_Animator/pseuds/Detective_Animator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica thought that escaping Hell's Kitchen, moving away and getting a new identity, a new name, personality, and all that jazz would fix things. Expect when it doesn't and your best friend forces you to have a roommate when all you really want to do is drink yourself into a coma.</p><p>Basically, running from your problems is difficult, and even harder when your new roommate is curious about your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work on this site, though I have written other fics before over on Fanfiction.Net. I am the writer of "We Must Be Killers", for those of you have read that over on that site. Now, the reason this is not going over there is because I don't think it would get a lot of attention over there.
> 
> Now, about this fic/one shot.
> 
> This fic has been in the works for a while. It was originally scrapped due to the thought that I didn't think most people would enjoy it. Regardless, I did end up writing it up again, and I am proud of the finished product.
> 
> The thought process of this fic started off as your typical "one character is another because they look the same/are played by the same person." I did not expect this to go where it went, nor do I have concrete plans to continue it unless if it's by popular demand. It will be a series if that is the case though.
> 
> Please read the tags, as there is some possible material that may be upsetting to readers.

When Jessica runs, she runs. It should be a given, a fact of life. Trish knew that she drinks to escape her problems. But sometimes, a bottle of Jack Daniels isn't enough.

Trish knew that too.

So, she runs. She runs fast and she gets the fuck out of dodge because she has to.

It was for Trish's own good, she tells herself as she eyes her way around her apartment for the millionth time that day. She knows she'll need a new roommate, after the last one got sick of her shit and ran off.

(Which is better, Jessica had convinced herself, but she needs a roommate.)

Jessica shakes her head, feeling sick, because none of what she's doing is her. Jessica doesn't wear all of the expensive, top-of-the-line clothes. Jessica doesn't drink fruity cocktails, and Jessica surely doesn't make friends with a celebrity.

(She thinks Trish might have something to do with that one. Jessica isn't exactly complaining.)

The bile in her throat vanishes at the sound of a knock, and along with it, her unease that only Jessica feels. She does what she does best.

She lies, and lies, and fucking lies.

"So my last roommate just moved out to get married. We were like sisters, we helped each other through all the ups and downs." The lie hits close to home, and she thinks of Trish, who is her sister in everything but blood. Though she's not getting married. It fucking hurts like hell though. "New York can be such a scary place when you first move here," she continues without a pause, rambling and talking and fuck this girl doesn't know half of the scary shit out there. "You really need to have a good support system." She twitches at the words, and they sound hollow and fake and she find herself hoping that this girl will find her too weird.

"Chicken Satay?" She offers, thrusting the plate out in front of her, towards the blonde haired girl seated on the couch.

She rambles, talking about how her 'perfect' day is, her four favorite things. She fakes a squeal in delight, hoping that her over-the-top, prissy attitude will scare this girl away.

Unfortunately for Jessica, it doesn't work.

The blonde questions her about her photo of James, and Jessica can barely hold back an inner scream as she proceeds to ramble out the fake cover story she had convinced James to go along with. And it had taken a lot of convincing, thankfully James was a good guy and friend. 

Jessica feels like a shit person for doing it, and maybe she is.

"You're fantastic." The blonde says, and Jessica feels herself slowly dying, because no, she's not. She's a piece of shit who uses people for her own selfish desires. "And you're drinking a pink drink," she points with the chicken to the drink that Jessica has been holding and not drinking. "And… I-I want to live here!"

Fuck her life, as she agrees with a fake laugh and lies that she needs the first, last, and security. She doesn't need it, Trish is secretly paying for the apartment completely, as long as she has a roommate.

And then the girl jumps up, and Jessica still has a grin plastered on her face, and then she's being hugged. She fights the urge to toss her away, the urge to stiffen all her muscles and jerk back as she hugs the woman back, wondering just how her life started to go to shit.

Oh wait, it already was.

\--

She gets use to it, because she has too. She breaks shit because that's something that can't be helped. Cabinet doors are accidently pulled off, and breaks a toothbrush or two, and she manages to lie again and again. She wreaks June's life in hopes that maybe, just maybe, she'll get sick of it and move out.

That doesn't happen. Not when she sleeps with June's fiancée to prove that he's a cheating bastard, not when she tries to set her up with her dad who's not really her dad. He's just some guy Trish managed to convince to go along with her shit.

(Jessica doesn't know how she has managed to convince all of these people, but she doesn't care. She's grateful for it. It's a great cover; should he ever find her again.)

Hell, June doesn't even get mad during the late nights Jessica wakes up screaming because of night terrors, shaking and crying and sweaty because fuck he's here, he's back, and he's going to take her away. He's found her and he's going to rape her again, and again, and again.

June asks about it, and Jessica lies. She lies again because she has too.

\--

Months pass, and between avoiding questions about her shit past and her shit cover story that she sometimes struggles to maintain, things are going surprisingly okay. This is the longest she's had a roommate, and she knows that Trish is happy, if her reluctant weekly calls to her friend have anything to say about it.

Of course, sometimes her lies don't work. Not that Jessica's surprised, because it was bound to happen.

She just didn't think it'd happen this way.

It had been a perfectly normal day, a perfect, fucking normal, day, and her fucking PTSD had to fuck it all up.

They'd gone out, for once during the day together. June sprouted some shit about wanting some advice on some clothes she was buying for an interview. Jessica had tried to get out of it, but nothing worked this time. James was filming some shit, Luther was busy doing something, Jessica didn't know what, and she certainly wasn't going to hang out with Robin.

This led to lunch, and then dinner, and then Jessica insisted on somewhere with a bar, because she had needed a fucking drink.

So, they sit at a bar, shooting shit and nursing their pretty pink drinks that do nothing to numb the feeling of his body, his hands, and his lips on hers. Guys hit on them, namely her because she apparently looks like an easy target, and she shoots them down with a deadpanned glare.

And then it happens, some asshole decides it would be fun to be a bit aggressive. Naturally, Jessica tells them to fuck off, though not that bluntly, and that's when he decides to tell her to smile.

**_'Smile Jessica.'_ **

**_'You'll love it, Jessica.'_ **

**_'Kiss me, Jessica.'_ **

**_'You love me, Jessica.'_ **

**_'You want no one but me, Jessica.' ___**

She snaps, and she grabs the man by his shirt and her fist connects with his nose, her eyes flashing with rage as she slams him into the table. The wood splinters and breaks beneath him. Her fingers curl around his jaw, forcing him to look at her as she curls her lips in disgust. Screams of surprise sound around her, but Jessica doesn't care, because fuck him and his fucking _'Smile for me, Jessica.'_

**_'Eat, Jessica.'_ **

**_'Lay with me, Jessica.'_ **

**_'Get back here, Jessica.'_ **

"Don't you ever, tell me what to fucking do." She spits in his face, his eyes wide and terrified, and Jessica relishes in the moment of power. Her fingers tighten, enough to leave bruises on his skin as she grips his wrist, tight enough for it hurt, but not enough for it to break. Blood drips from his nose, stark and crimson against his skin. He cries out, and she can almost imagine it's him screaming in pain. It's him pinned below her with a look of terror in his eyes. "Do you fucking understand? Don't ever, tell me, what to do." She leans down close to the man, and he trembles in her grip and it feels so good, so, so good to be in control, to power over someone.

"Chloe!"

June's voice snaps her from her rage, and she starts slightly, jerking backwards as she glances around the bar. Realization of what just happened blossoms in her mind, and her stomach twists. She feels sick, bile raising her throat and she manages to choke out an apology before running again.

She runs out of the bar, the evening air cold against her skin as she runs in too-high-heels that only he would make her wear. She's dressed in clothes that he would buy for her.

Why did she agree to this?

She rips off the fancy coat, tossing it away as her knees give out and her world tints purple around her. His shadow looms over her, and she gags, cupping a hand over her mouth as she threatens to throw up her dinner.

**_'Get back here, Jessica!'_ **

**_'Now, Jessica!'_ **

She presses her hands against her ears, her eyes shut tight as she tries to block out the feeling of his fingers ghosting her exposed skin, his lips against hers, his body hard against hers and she wants him. She wants him so fucking bad because he told her she wants him, but she doesn't at the same time, and she's screaming on the inside.

She gets back home, before June, clutching a freshly bought bottle of bourbon and a pack of cigarettes. Jessica retreats to her bedroom, pulling off the fancy jacket and dress and tossing it to the hamper before she slides on a baggy grey sweater that still smell like Trish's apartment. It still smells like home. She falls back on her bed, breathing in and out slowly before she cracks the bottle of bourbon open.

She's about halfway through the bottle before she feels her body grow heavy. Her eyelids flutter and she sets the bottle down on the floor. It's not much longer after that that she's asleep.

\--

She wakes up screaming, her limbs flailing and the sheets tangle around her legs. She is covered in sweat, and tears prick her eyes as she breathes harshly. Her body curls inward, her fingers digging into her scalp. _'Go away, go away, get the fuck out of my head. You're not real, you're not real.'_

"Birch Street."

_**'Jessica.'** _

"Higgins Drive."

**_'Take care of her.'_ **

"Cobalt Lane."

She repeats it over and over, she repeats the street names like it's the only thing she can say. And maybe it is. Her voice is hoarse and scratchy. Tears prick at her eyes, and she gags against the bile raising in her throat as she manages to stumble out of the room and to the bathroom just as she throws up.

The tiles are cold against her hot, clammy skin, and she brushes her hair back furiously, retching over the toilet. It tastes bitter and faintly like bourbon.

She wants Trish. She wants to call Trish so bad it physically hurts.

She doesn't though, because she doesn't want to admit that she's weak. She doesn't want Trish's help.

She doesn't need help.

\--

Weeks pass, several weeks pass, and they quickly turn into months, and thankfully she seems to be getting better with the night terrors and the flashbacks.

At least, she thinks she is. She doesn't exactly know. June doesn't mention it, but Jessica isn't sure if that's because she too scared to or if it's because she doesn't know what she saw.

Jessica hopes it's the latter, because June doesn't act scared around her.

\--

Thanksgiving rolls around, and Jessica finally calls Trish to confirm the plans for the holidays. She knows June doesn't have the money to fly home, so, they plan it accordingly.

She lies again, and suggests they go drinking with Native Americans. It's a tactless lie, but it gets the job done.

So, when the taxi pulls into the driveway of the home that not-her-parents-house-but-is-for-now, she feels nervous. A sick feeling claws at her stomach, and it takes everything she can not to throw up. The last Thanksgiving, she had was with-

No. Don't think about it.

She manages to convince June to get in the wheelchair, though it of course takes some doing. Jessica doesn't exactly like the idea, but she knows Chloe would do this.

Really, Chloe seems like a much stronger woman than Jessica ever was.

They head up to the door, and she yells at her 'mother' and feels horrible for it. She knows that her 'mom' knew it was an act. She acts happy to see her 'dad' and runs off to find Trish while her 'mom' distracts June with a hug.

\--

"I hate Thanksgiving." Trish scoffs in agreement at her tone. Thanksgiving had never been the best of times in the Walker household. Trish's mother had been all about using the holiday as a publicity stunt. Going to homeless shelters, feeding an orphanage. The whole nine-yards. Jessica had never been a fan of it since the accident. It reminded her to much of what she use to have.

"How are you doing?" Jessica shrugs in answer, sitting upstairs as she stares at Trish. It feels nice to meet with her again, despite how awkward it is. In some way she hates it, that they have to go through all this just to make sure he-

"Jess, talk to me." She jolts from her thoughts, staring at Trish quietly.

"I'm…" She starts, but falters again. "I'm handling it, I think." She continues, staring down at her drink. There's a long pause, before she breaks. She shatters and along with it, the glass in her hand shatters from squeezing it too hard. It's an accident, and she curses sharply. "I can't do this, Trish. June is too nice to put up with my shit." Her hand burns with pain as she speaks, staring down at her bleeding hand. Trish starts quickly, grabbing her wrist gently.

"Jesus, Jess, be careful." She whispers softly, and Jessica chuckles lowly. She's never careful. "Have you told her anything? About…"

"No." It's a flat answer, and Trish nods and leaves it at that.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" Trish's fingers ghost her arm, helping her up. Jessica feels like a child, but she doesn't protest as Trish starts to lead her downstairs.

Of course they'd run into June. Because the world loves fucking her over. The mask slips on once more.

"June, where the hell have you been?" She demands, dropping her hand in hopes of hiding the blood dripping down her fingers.

"I've been trying to talk to your father, but he's acting like-is that blood?" Junes cuts off abruptly, and Jessica falters for a second, luckily Trish jumps in to save her ass. Like always.

"Just a small accident, nothing major." She puts on that winning smile, and June falters.

"You-you're, Trish Walker." It's enough to distract her, and Trish nods slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. Jessica shuffles downstairs as fast as possible, casting a quick glance at Trish as she leaves.

Trish understands, she knows she does.

\--

Dinner is a bust, June snaps and is thrown out. She hangs out with Trish for the rest of the night, sticking close to her.

She almost doesn't want to leave.

She stops at the doorway, feeling her 'mom's' hand touch her arm. She glances down, the mask that she has thrown up crumples for a second. "Thank you." She breaths out, soft and strain. Karen nods her head, a careful smile pulling at her lips.

"Don't mention it, really. It gets better." Jessica snorts at this, laughing bitterly. "It does, but it takes time." She continues, her tone firmer, and Jessica sobers with nod when Trish touches her shoulder.

"Hey, here's next month's rent. June seems nice." Trish has that expression on her face, and Jessica manages a slight smile.

"She's too nice to put up with my shit." She answers quietly, taking the wad of bills. She relishes in the brief moment that allows her to be herself. To be Jessica, not Chloe, and it feels great. Trish hugs her tight, squeezing her with all of her strength. Jessica hugs her back slightly, breathing in the expensive soaps that is pure Trish.

It calms her.

"Call me, when you get home, okay?" Trish whispers in her ear, and all Jessica can do is nod her head slightly. They both know she probably won't. There will be a long lapse in them talking again, until the nightmares get to bad, or until she snaps and gets herself in trouble.

She pulls form Trish's warmth, managing a quick smile, and a thank you to who June thinks are her parents. They nod slightly, and Jessica steps out of the house, putting back on the mask that she has grown so use to donning now.

\--

Weeks pass again. They don't talk about what happened at Thanksgiving. She lands June a job offer that goes sour-not that she didn't expect that. She fucks around, convinces everyone to come with her to the Hampton for a party. June gets office drama-which Jessica wrinkles her nose at and convinces June to stand up for herself. She gets the neighbors to hate them by being her usual self, which Jessica could honestly not give to two shits about.

Then things change. She's not sure what's changed, but there's a shift in their relationship that terrifies her. She gets June to take her on a crime tour, and the tour goes well, until they pass the spot where Reva died. The spot where Kilgrave died.

She stops briefly, her mind flashing back to that moment. That moment that she drove her fist against Reva's chest, and can still feel the crack of bone against her knuckles, the thump of Reva's body hitting the ground. The screech of the bus tires and blare of the horn.

She manages to snap herself out of it, feeling June's gaze on her. She shrugs it off, muttering something about how she fine and ducks into the café.

June makes plans for dinner, and Jessica nods distractedly, not exactly caring who her friend is as she enters it into her phone.

Wednesday rolls around, and Jessica does as she promised, she stayed out of the apartment so June could have some time with her friend. It's not until she walks into the apartment that she realizes June meant her.

They're just roommates, not friends. Jessica doesn't have friends. She tells June this flat out, with two bus boys she brought home fluttering around them.

She knows June is hurt by this, but Jessica shoves her away like everyone else.

Apparently, the shift in the relationship makes the nightmares worse, because he's here that following night. He's here, in their apartment, he's going to kill June, and whisk her away like he did last time.

His silhouette lingers at the window, tall and shadowy. She's frozen, stiff and unable to scream as he takes step towards her.

**_'Don't move, Jessica.'_ **

**_'Lay down, Jessica.'_ **

**_'You will enjoy this.'_ **

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. He can't. He can't be here. He's dead. She saw him die. She saw him get hit by a bus. Bam, dead, not breathing, not speaking, not moving. D-E-A-D dead.

She snaps out of it with a gasp of air, choking back a scream.

And that's when she decides to drink herself into a coma. Not literally, though that'd be nice, but enough that she can sleep without dreaming.

\--  
She wakes up hungover around noon, her head throbbing and her body aching. Slowly, Jessica glances around, winching at the brightness that the sun brings to the living room. It takes her a moment to recall what had happened, and she winches at the thought.

The door opens before she can get up, the click of the lock following the sounds of laughter.

Fuck, don't let it be girls. She hates girls. Trish always had those prissy, over the top friends because her mother made her have them. Both she and Trish had agreed, once they moved out, that they would never have friends like that again.

"Oh! Chloe, hi! These are my new friends." June's voice is sharp and loud against her drumming headache. She turns to look at her roommate, watching her movements. "This is Ashley, Carmon and Stephanie." June gestures to each one. "We've been hanging out at palates all day."

Jessica is confused, her eyes dart between the group of four as they blather on.

"Wait, June, who are these people?" She asks, her voice hesitant as she struggles to catch up.

"I told you, they're my friends." June pauses. "We have a lot in common. I mean, Ashley works on wall-street…" Jessica glances between the girls in front of her, feeling sick to her stomach. These are not friends June wants. She's not the friend June wants either, but that's fine. Her eyes widen when one of the girls, the tallest one, clearly the leader, steps forward and start showing off her tattoo, going on and on about it. Her fingers curl tightly around the nearest object-the empty bottle of bourbon she polished off last night. It cracks in her grip, and she's careful not to break it as the girl sits on the armrest of the couch.

Jessica's stands up sharply, grabbing June and pulling her into the kitchen.

"You don't want to be friends with these people." Her voice comes out flat, and she stops June form speaking. "June, they're fake friends who know nothing about the real world. They're not friends you want." She cuts off, and there's a flicker of anger in June's eyes.

"Yes, I do, Chloe. They're my friends, and I'm not going to let you change that." June snaps, and Jessica opens her mouth to speak, but June turns on her heel and walks off.

Jessica sags her shoulders, rubbing her temples and breathing out slowly. Oh well.

\--

There's a moment in your life, when you realize that you might be an alcoholic. Sure, maybe today's not the day for Jessica Jones, but it's bound to happen eventually.

Her eyes stare in disgust at the pretty pink drink with flashy lights and way too many straws. She glares to the side where June and her 'friends' sit. She can tell that there's no alcohol in it. There's not a sharp smell of vodka in the drink, or anything of the like.  
Fuck, maybe she does have a problem.

She bends the straw between her fingers effortlessly, resting her cheek on her palm as she listens to the mind-numbing conversation of the girls. She hates this, she hates her life, and she hates these girls.

Naturally, she snaps, anyone would. She's doing the world a service.

She ridicules each girl, pointing out their flaws. She's a private eye, or, she wants to be, so she's good at reading people. She turns, ignoring June trying to call her back, and stomps off out of the bar. Shrugging on her coat, she shivers in the cold air. The breeze brushes through her hair, and she wistfully thinks of flying, but doesn't dare try it for fear of revealing herself.

New York was never the most welcoming of cities since the incident.

"Hey babe, what are you doing out here so late." An accented voice speaks up, British.

She stops, spinning around the face the man, her fist connecting with his nose with a satisfying crunch.

"Fuck off." She hisses out, and he holds his nose, his hair is blonde, and his eyes are green. Not brown, and he's dressed in a ratty shirt and jeans, not expensive suits.

She stomps off without another word, but his ghost walks beside her, his arm slung heavy over her shoulder. His expensive cologne invades her nose as he blathers on about how 'you'll love Rome, Jessica.' And 'isn't this place beautiful?'

She finds the nearest empty alley and punches a wall, the pain brings her back to reality, his ghost vanishes, his voice fades, but his scent is still there. She punches the wall again, and again, and again until her knuckles bleed.

She sags down on the cold cement, choking on a scream as she curls in on herself.

She's not sure when she passed out, but she's being nudged awake by a kind, elderly woman early next morning, her face pinched in concern.

Jessica blinks blearily, her knuckles throb, and her head is stuffed with cotton.

"Are you alright, dearie?" The woman's voice is kind, and Jessica just nods her head. It takes her a few moments to find her voice.

"Yeah, yeah I'm, fine. Just had a bit too much to drink." She laughs it off, and staggers to her feet. "Thank you." She adds, nodding before quickly stumbling off. She holds her hands close to her body, ignoring the older woman's calls to come back.

She stumbles back to the apartment to find June sitting on the couch. It's nothing new, but something is different. She tries to escape to bed before June can notice.

"You didn't come home last night." Her tone is sharp, and it makes her pause slightly.

"And, it's nothing new?" Jessica says dryly, looking back at June.

"Your knuckles are bleeding." She adds, and Jessica pauses, trying to come up with a good excuse.

"I uhm…" She starts, but her voice fails her for a second. "Why do you care?"

"Because we're roommates." June answers, as if it's obvious. "And if you've done something illegal I'd like to know so I can say I had nothing to do with it." June pauses slightly. "You haven't killed anyone, have you?"

The question makes her flinch, and she opens her mouth, lies spilling from her lips like second nature.

"Of course not, do you think I could kill someone? Come on, June, don't be stupid." She scoffs, rolling her eye. She catches June gaze, who nods slightly and laughs a bit.

"Right, sorry, it was stupid of me to think that. Sorry, Chloe." June is quick to apologize, and Jessica accepts the apology without another word before stumbling to her bedroom.

\--

A few more days' pass, Jessica doesn't know how many, June stops hanging out with those fake girls, and she still is having nightmares every night. Maybe not every night, but it sure as hell feels like it.

Jessica's barely sleeping at this point, to paranoid to try, and to scared to tell June. She avoids James, because he'll know right away that she isn't sleeping. She doesn't call Trish, because once again, she'll know.

She's completely alone to fight off her demons, well, maybe not alone. She has a bottle of whiskey and good ol' Jack Daniels to keep her company.

It's not as bad as it sounds, really. On paper, it sounds worse, but in theory, it's good plan. Brilliant actually.

Until, of course, she wakes up in the hospital, confused and exhausted. Her eyes peel open, and she winches at the brightness of the lights. Her vision takes a few moments to focus, and she can make out the vague shapes of June and Trish-she wondered what Trish is doing here-hovering above her. She tries to speak, but all that comes out is a soft moan that sounds to fucking pathetic. Trish is the first to move-of course she is-and a straw touches her lips before she takes in a few greedy gulps.

"What were you thinking?!" Trish is the first to speak, once again, and Jessica moans and brushes her off. "No, you tell me what you were thinking, right now." Trish sounds angry, her voice firm as she lays a hand on her shoulder, starting Jessica.

"Don't, please..." It's all she can think to say, too exhausted to think much more.

"Chloe, you almost died. You almost went into a coma, and if you think we were going to just sit here and let you-" June starts, and Jessica squeezes her eyes at the ringing in her skull.

"Shut up, June." She snaps without thinking, just wanting the ringing to stop. She wants silence, she wants to sleep.

"J-Chloe… Talk to me." Trish almost slips, and the almost slip makes Jessica crave hearing her own name again. Trish's voice is softer, gentler now, and when Jessica meets her gaze, she finds concern, sympathy, but also love. It nearly makes Jessica break; she cracks a bit under the gaze.

"I wanted to sleep." She rasps out, and Trish's eyes search hers', while June looks confused, but more concerned and maybe a bit unnerved. "I wanted it to end, Trish, I wanted him to stop-" Her throat closes up on her, and she grips the railing of the hospital bed tightly, tight enough to bend the metal under her fingers. "I wanted to sleep." She repeats, and she knows Trish will understand. Trish always understands her.

She feels Trish's fingers brush her own, hot against her cold skin. She wants to catch Trish's hand, hold it in hers, but she restrains herself.

"June, could you leave us for a second?" Trish's voice is polite, calm, but something under her tone makes it clear that it's not a suggestion. June nods, though Jessica can tell she's hesitant, but she stands and moves to leave anyways.

"I'll be right outside, 'kay Chloe?" June says, pausing at the door. Jessica just nods her head, though the room spins when she does that, and she shut her eyes to try to stop the motion. She hears the click of a door closing, and there's a rustle of sheets as the mattress dips underneath her.

"Jessica, talk to me." The sound of her actual name makes her open her eyes. She stares at Trish, relishing in the sound of her name. "Did you-"

"No, Trish, I didn't." Jessica cuts her off quickly, not allowing her to finish the sentence. "Like I said, I wanted to sleep. I wanted him to stop haunting my nightmares. I wanted to stop dreaming of him telling me to fuck him every night." She spits the words out with as much venom as she can muster, though it's not much. She too tired and it's too much effort. "I'm so tired Trish." She breaks down, her head thudding against the pillow. Tears well up in her eyes, and she barely manages to blink them back, biting her bottom lip. She's frustrated and exhausted.

"Jess…" Trish breaths out, her voice careful, and she reaches out to touch her cheek. "Jess, you can't bottle this up. You should've called me." Frustration builds up in her stomach, and her fingers squeeze tightly into fists.

"And then what? You can't make them stop, you know that. And don't fucking say therapy." Jessica snaps, her brown eyes burning. "I was doing better, but… But something changed." She fumbles slightly, furrowing her brows. "They got worse." She decides to finally say.

"And you should've called me." Trish answers gently, and Jessica turns her head to the side. "Jess, I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't let me in."

"This isn't something you can just wish away Trish." Jessica spits out, and she feels guilty for doing so. Trish sighs softly, and Jessica can feel her gaze studying her.

"You're going to have to tell June at some point." She says instead, and Jessica doesn't answer for a moment.

"And what? Tell her I was mind raped by some bastard who captured me for over eight months? Who _made_ me want to have sex with him? That I've been lying and manipulating her for months on end? I'm not better than him." She spits out, and Trish flinches, but her eyes widen sharply.

"Don't you dare compare yourself to him." Trish cuts into her rant, her voice is almost angry. "You are nothing like him."

"Am I not? I might not have mind control, but I've been manipulating June for months to get what I want. How is that any different from what he did?" Jessica shoots back, and Trish jumps up, her eyes almost furious. Jessica has never seen Trish this angry before, and she's almost afraid of her.

"Because you haven't killed people, or raped people!" She argues, and Jessica wants to laugh at the words. She's killed people. She killed Reva for fucks sake.

Trish doesn't know that, she'll never know that. She'll take that secret to the grave.

"But I've still manipulated June, used her to get what I want." She whispers finally, breaking eye contact with her best friend.

"No, you haven't." Trish whispers back in a gentle tone, calming down as she sits back down on the bed. Her hand finds Jessica's, warm and soft. "Jess, please, talk to June. She's a nice girl. She'll understand." Jessica remains silent, and Trish squeezes her hand gently before letting go. Jessica doesn't want to ask for it back, and the mask goes back up at full force.

\--

They want to keep her under observation for a night, and the words fucking terrify Jessica. She doesn't want to be alone, but visiting hours are soon over, and she's left alone in the dim lighting of the hospital room. She's glad that she's in a private room, because at least she can be alone.

It's the only silver lining in this, really.

So, she counts ceiling tiles for an hour, and she counts up to 56, or maybe it's 58. She gets a different number every time, so she can't be sure. Once she gets bored with that, she picks at a loose string in the thin sheet, which is probably not the best idea. Her eyelids grow heavy, but she refuses to fall asleep. Her eyes flick over to the call button, and she wonders if the nurse would give her a sedative-a really strong one. She doubts it, because alcohol and medicine never go well together.

Jessica sighs, breathing out through her nose and studying the ceiling tiles again. Her eyes water with exhaustion, and she blinks to clear her vision, rubbing her eyes furiously. They flutter shut once more, and she can't find the strength to open them again.

Her eyes flick open again when she feels the mattress dip down beneath her. She sits up sharply, her breathing hitching in her throat at the figure seated on the edge of the bed. She can make out the purple in his suit, the neat brown hair and dark brown eyes, and she wants to scream, but his voice utters a soft command for her to not scream, that it's alright, he's here now.

She complies, but not willingly, her fingers curling around the sheets tightly, breathing almost to the point of hyperventilating. She can't get enough air in her lungs, as he leans forward, close enough that she can smell his cologne.

"Birch Street…" Her voice comes out raspy, and she chokes back a sob. "Higgins Drive…" Her breathing hitches in her throat, and she flinches away from his shadowy figure. He's not here, he's not here, he's gone. "Cobalt Lane." She shuts her eyes tightly, her finger squeezing the fabric of the sheet in frustration.

She waits a few moments before she opens her eyes to find herself back in her hospital room, alone. She sighs in relief, draping her arm over her eyes as a shutter runs up her spine.

\--

Jessica isn't sure how much she slept the following night, but all she knows is that Trish woke her up in the morning and dragged her out of the hospital in a new change clothes.

She is still fucking exhausted, but Trish doesn't give a shit and seems to be determined to give her a good time-despite the fact that alcohol can't be involved.

So, they sit on the couch, curled up with a few bowls containing various snack type foods. Chips, popcorn, pretzels, even M&M's. They throw on whatever cheesy chick flick currently airing and laugh and make fun of the bullshit drama that happens in every chick flick.  
It's fun, probably the most fun Jessica's had since he took her away.

They had just finished one movie, Jessica isn't even sure what the name was, but they're laughing their asses off and fighting for breaths as the door slides open and June steps in. Jessica doesn't notice until June whistles loudly, starting her up. She's grinning, cheeks flushed, and still chuckling a bit.

"Hey June! Come sit, we're watching stupid chick flicks and making fun of them." She shifts, sliding over to sit next to Trish, leaning against her slightly as she pats the now open space in the couch beside her. She sees June hesitate, but the younger girl finally gives in and sits in the seat beside her.

So, they spend the rest of the day watching other chick flicks and shitty movies that were poorly made. They order take out, and before long, night has fallen. June retreats to bed, having work tomorrow, while Jessica and Trish stay up a bit later.

"You do need to stop drinking, Jess." Trish breathes out finally after a long pause. Jessica remains silent for a long time, and Trish continues. "We should get you into AA meetings."

"Why? So I can bitch about my problems to complete strangers? No thank you." Jessica cuts in sharply, her voice hard. Trish fixes her with a look, and Jessica doesn't look away, raising her eyebrows at her best friend. "I'm not going, Trish, I can handle this myself."

"Clearly, you can't." Jessica grunts slightly, leaning forward to take a quick gulp of water. "Jess, you almost died. You almost drank yourself into a coma." Trish stresses the last word, and Jessica tosses her arms up into the air.

"And what would be the downfall to that?!" She snaps, standing and stalking to the kitchen. "I wouldn't have to dream of him, him fucking me every night. I wouldn't have to live in fear of him coming back!"

"He's dead, he was hit by a bus!"

"So? What if he survived?" Jessica hisses out, unable to fully squash the fear of him coming back. Her arms fold tightly over her chest, and she sets her jaw with a sharp glare at her best friend.

"He didn't, you saw his death certificate. He saw him die." Trish says it as if it's some sort of reassuring words. It doesn't do much to help her.  
"Death certificates can be faked." She breaths out softly, looking away from Trish finally.

There's a moment of silence, before Jessica breaks it in a tired voice.

"I'm going to bed." Trish looks up at the words, and she stands.

"I'll come with you."

"What? No." Jessica cuts in quickly, and Trish gives her a deadpan look.

"It's not like we haven't done it before." Jessica scowls, because Trish is right, but she still doesn't like the idea. Nothing has been the same since Kilgrave.

Hell, she hasn't had someone else in her bed since Kilgrave. She's tried to, but she freezes up and panics. It's awkward, and she ends up rushing out of the room and returning back to her apartment hammered drunk and giggly.  
But this is Trish. Maybe it'll be different.

"Fine." She pushes a sigh from her lips, gesturing for her to follow as she trudges to her bedroom.

\--

It's not as awkward as Jessica thought it would be. She only wakes up once during the night, shaking but cradled in Trish's arms. It's comforting, and Jessica sags into her best friend, letting Trish pet her hair and rock her softly.

The rest of the night is surprisingly bearable, though she doesn't sleep. She just lays in bed, cradled against Trish and relishing in her scent, her body, everything.

She can forget about Kilgrave for a while.

\--

Morning rolls around, Trish has made coffee, June is rushing out the door with a quick goodbye, and Jessica wanders into the kitchen. She instinctively reaches for a bottle of vodka or whiskey, but Trish's sharp warning glare stops her, and she settles for a cup of coffee. It's bitter, straight black, but it wakes her up enough for the conversation Trish springs on her.

"I think you should go to AA meetings." Jessica starts, her eyes snapping up to find Trish's.

"No, not hell no but fuck no. I'm not going to hang out with a bunch of drunken losers whose wives made them go." She snaps, her fingers tightening around the handle of the coffee mug, causing small dents to appear in it.

"Jess, please." Trish's stares down at her, and Jessica wants to continue arguing, but Trish knows her weak spots. Her chips in the armor. Trish knows how to get her to do shit.

So, of course, she agrees and this leads her to sitting in a chair, acting like Chloe, in a circle with a bunch of circle-jerkers.  
She doesn't talk about Kilgrave, she doesn't talk about Reva, or the bus crash, or her nightmares. She certainly doesn't talk about her near death experience.

Probably not what Trish had in mind for her to be doing, but Jessica doesn't care.

And then James shows up, while this moron talks about his dog who died or some shit, leaning over with an excited look on his face. Jessica stares at him. They hadn't talked recently, not since before the incident with her near-death coma experience. She wonders if James knows about it.

He blabs on about some short list he's on, and how he'd be perfect for it. She praises him like Chloe would do, but to her it feels forced and fake. Granted, everything she's done up to this point is fake, forced. Her friendship with James is fake.

Fuck she's such a downer, not that it isn't anything new.

He talks about how he is apparently not deep enough for the roll, and Jessica lets her sarcasm drip form her tone as she agrees.

"So, I'm thinking what I should do is talk to people who've had traumatic life experience." It's an off-handed comment, and at first, she thinks that James is here to talk to her, but then he pauses. "So where do I find people like that?" He studies her, and Jessica bites her lip, shifting in her chair as James laughs to himself and shakes his head. "Oh, duh!"

She panics, full on panics on the inside and she hopes he doesn't notice the way her heart leaps to her throat, the way she digs her nails into her palms.

"I'll go get one of those glazed doughnuts, I always brainstorm best on a full tummy." He stands up and rushes out, and Jessica relaxes, but she moves on autopilot for the rest of the time, clapping and cheering the other alcoholics on.

The meeting ends, and it's late at night when she leaves the building. She shivers, glancing around quietly. She knows that Trish is waiting, and for a brief second she thinks of turning and leaving through a different exit, finding a seedy bar, and drinking herself to a coma like she intended before.

But she doesn't, and Trish arrives at her side in a matter of seconds after she contemplates the idea.

"How'd it go?"

"Horrible."

There's a brief pause, and Jessica shifts on her feet. "Can we go home?" She asks, her voice sounds small, and Trish eyes her quietly.  
"Something's wrong." It's a statement, and Jessica laughs a bit.

"No shit, Trish." Her voice drips with sarcasm, and she brushes pass Trish towards the car.

\--

The next day rolls around, and Jessica reluctantly goes back to the AA meetings, not that she had much of a choice.

Though she wishes she wasn't here. Her gaze slides sideways, landing on James and Luther, who seem to be eagerly soaking in what the other people say. His questions are quick, probing, and questions you should never ask a person about trauma.

"James-" Her voice is soft, too quiet, not loud enough to be heard over his questions.

" _James-_ " She feels like her voice is still too soft. She's gather the attention of the other patrons, but James is still to stuck in his own ass to hear.

" _James_!" She shouts this time, her voice loud and it sends her to her feet. She towering over him now, her shoulders tense and James and Luther both jump up. Their eyes are wide in surprise, and Jessica glares down at them.

"Chloe? We were just-" James starts, but Jessica doesn't want to hear any of it. Maybe Chloe would let James needlessly question traumatic people, but Jessica won't.

"Save it, James." She spits out the words, her hands trembling slightly. She clenches her fists, trying to hide the fact that James' questions had affected her. "Leave." The single word erupts from her throat like a cannon ball, sharp and straight-to-the-point.

"Chloe, we were just-"

"I said leave!" She cuts him off, and the two men exchange a glance before they stand reluctantly and shuffle out. Jessica shifts, moving to sit down in her chair. She's furious, angry, and there's a feeling in her gut she can't describe. Dread, unease, and maybe a touch of regret.

The rest of the meeting goes on in tense, but awkward stories. No one wants to be here after that outburst, Jessica can't blame them. 

Eventually, once they all have shared, Jessica leaves. She exits the building quickly, hoping to avoid questions.

She takes the back exit, scales a fire escape, and sits. The metal is cold against her body, and she shivers. Slowly, she drags her knees to her chest, wanting to hide from the world. She needs a bottle; she needs a strong drink.

The only coping she can do right now is street names. Repeating them over and over. Birch Street, Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane.

Birch Street, Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane.

She's not sure how long she sits there, but she's cold and her body feels numb from the chill in her bones. She doesn't move, not until a soft voice floats up to her ears.

"Jess, you going to stay up there all night?"

She jumps, the metal grating below her rattling and shaking from her sudden movement. Her elbow bumps a bar, the cold metal causing a shock to run up her arm.

"Jess?"

She can picture Trish's head tipping to the side, like a curious cat. She laughs softly at the image, before scrambling to her feet. The metal shakes and her fingers grip the bars for stability.

"You're not drunk are you?" Trish's voice is soft, but there's a hint of humor in her tone. Jessica leans against the metal railing, unable to fight a grin of her own. She knows she should be mad, mad at the fact that Trish assumes that she's drunk, but she's not.

"No, Trish, I'm not." She says back, and she can see Trish's curious eyes spark in confusion.

"Well then what are you doing up here?"

"Reciting street names." She deadpans, and she can see Trish frown, concern on her face. Jessica climbs over the railing, dropping to the ground beside Trish.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Trish's eyes search her face, and Jessica shrugs her shoulders.

"I could use a drink." She answers instead. She can feel Trish's disapproval rolling off her. "Fine, if you won't let me drink, then at least let me buy a pack of cigarettes."

"I thought you stopped that." Trish's voice is surprised, and Jessica shrugs her shoulders again.

"It's either that or I get drunk off my ass." Jessica shoots back, and she can see Trish frown, shaking her head.  
"Fine." Trish relented.

\--

The next few days are tough for her. She ignores James entirely; she blocks him out like she does with everything. She stops going to AA, much to Trish's annoyance, but Trish doesn't push it.

Eventually though, the moment passes, as they do, and Trish heads back to her apartment, with the promise of visiting every few weeks. Jessica is fine with that, or she tells herself that at least.

She's fine, still cracked and chipped, but she's fine. To herself at least.

She's fine most days, the night terrors calm down, and she is no longer screaming when she wakes up. She just jolts awake.  
Of course, she was stupid to ever think things could get better.

It starts with June smiling and grinning and blathering on about how she met this guy who came into her work. Jessica pretends to be listening until something catches her ear.

"And he had the nicest British accent. He was very charming too, got me smiling and laughing with a single word." Jessica's head snaps up, her eyes landing on her roommate.

No. No no no no.

No, he's dead. She saw it. She saw him die.

"What did he look like?" She hopes she's overreacting; she hopes it's just her fucking PTSD. God she fucking hopes she's just paranoid like Trish has said over and over. June seems confused, and Jessica stands up from the couch, taking a step forward. "June, tell me, what did he look like, did he say anything?!"

"I-He..." June starts, clearly trying to think. "He was tall, skinny, dark hair. Oh, and he was well dressed too!" June smiles widely. "I think he's rich. He looked like it after all. Though, his color choice was interesting. Purple, I mean, it wasn't obnoxious, and actually looked pretty good." June goes on to say, and Jessica shivers, cupping her mouth.

No. Wake up. This is a dream. A bad dream. A nightmare. Where's the part where she wakes up, in bed, covered in sweat?

She stands there for a long time, before she manages to barely compose herself enough to ask another question.

"Where did he tell you meet him at?" She demands, her voice serious but slightly unsteady. Her eyes search June, and she seems uneasy now. Jessica can't exactly blame her.

"Some Chinese restaurant down the street. Fancy place actually-"

"Great, I'm going. Sorry June!" She cuts her off, rushing out of the apartment. It's such a Chloe thing to do, steal June's men. She has to do this though, and so she runs out, ignoring June's calls to come back.  
\--

She doesn't call Trish. It might be best if she did, in case something happened to her, but she doesn't.

Because Trish will just try to convince her to stop what she's doing. Tell her that it's insane. Not that Trish would be in the wrong about that.  
She stands in front of the restaurant, her eyes narrow and judging. She's dressed in plain jeans and t-shirt under her old leather jacket that smells like whiskey and Trish and cigarettes. Might as well be comfortable when going to face your rapist, right?

Plus, maybe, she doesn't want to give him any ideas. Dreaming fancy might make it seem like she cares. They both know she doesn't.

Jessica sighs, looking around the area, the streets are surprisingly quiet tonight, and the air is cool but not unpleasant.

Her stomach turns and she feels like she's going to throw up.

She waits five minutes, then ten, and finally at fifteen minutes of lingering she walks in. The scheduled time was 8, and she's here at 8, and steps through the door at 8:15 just to spite him. The host behind the small podium looks up, a smile pulling at his lips.

Jessica feels sick, repulsed, and she wonders what she's even doing.

He can take her away again, with a single word. She should've brought earplugs or something.  
Maybe she should have thought this through.

"Ah, Miss Jones," her heart skips a beat, and she trembles slightly as the words that fall from the host's mouth. He knew she was here, of course he fucking did.

The host gestures to the back of the empty restaurant. She can see him, he looks no different, dressed in expensive suits, his hair neatly done. She almost turns and runs, but something roots her to the ground. She swallows thickly, unable to look away from him.

The host jolts her from her thoughts with a single sentence.

"If you could follow me please, I'd be happy to take you to your table."

**Author's Note:**

> So, let me know what you thought of this, and if you think I should continue this! Thank you for reading it!


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